“Minister Lin has embarked with eight members of his staff and family for Tellichery,” Babanguida said quietly. “I don’t believe he has left his suite, no. Certainly they’re taking all their meals there.”
“Now I’ll bet,” von Pohlitz said carefully, “that a boy in your position could copy a passkey to that suite.”
Babanguida stood like an ebony statue.
“It would be worth another two hundred credits if you did,” the Grantholmer pressed.
“It would be worth two thousand,” Babanguida said softly.
“Balls!” von Pohlitz snarled. “Do you take me for a fool?”
“I’m not bargaining with you, Captain,” Babanguida said. “I’m giving you free information. For two thousand credits, I would call my friend who’s in the Housekeeping office right now and have him bring down a one-pass copy. For nineteen hundred and ninety-nine credits, I’ll keep walking right on into the Social Hall, where I’m supposed to be now anyway.”
“It won’t be any—real trouble, hanging trouble,” von Pohlitz said. “Just a little something for him to remember—and maybe some of his files get scrambled.”
“Two thousand,” Babanguida repeated without emphasis.
The Grantholmers looked at one another. Von Pohlitz grimaced and ostentatiously loaded a chip from his reader—two, zero, zero, zero, End. His blunt fingers stabbed like miniature battering rams.
Babanguida shifted his commo unit toward a point on the ceiling and said, “Mohacks? Three.” Then he clipped a scrambler disk onto the transceiver and waited for a reply. Mohacks had a girlfriend in Housekeeping, which was frequently handy to the men’s other business interests.
“Yeah?” Babanguida heard Mohacks normally, but the conversation recorded as only a ripple of static in the Empress’s data banks.
Babanguida gave a series of brief directions. He didn’t bother to explain anything to his partner. When he was finished, he removed the scrambler and looked at the Grantholm party with a complacent smile.
“Now what?” von Pohlitz demanded. The black crewman’s new expression made him uncomfortable.
“Now we wait fifteen minutes,” Babanguida said. “And then we exchange chips, hey?”
* * *
Mohacks appeared in just under nine minutes. He set the key, a chip with a hand-lettered legend, on the table but covered it with his palm until von Pohlitz slid the two thousand credits to Babanguida. Both ratings strode toward the Social Hall without looking back. The steward watched them go.
“What was that all about?” Mohacks asked when they stepped through the doorway into imperial Rome.
“A thousand apiece,” his partner said. “That’s what it’s about.”
“Why the hell did they want that room?” Mohacks demanded.
“They didn’t,” explained Babanguida. “They wanted the Nevasans. But I thought it’d be more interesting to have them bust in on Lady Scour’s bodyguards in the middle of the night.”
* * *
The Szgranian maids converged on Ran Colville from either end of the Bamboo Promenade, near the entrance to the Cochin Coffeehouse. Stiff “plumes” of pastel gauze sprang from their backs, giving each of the tiny females the volume requirements of an abnormally fat human.
Ran paused with a professional smile—wondering as he did so what the expression meant to a Szgranian. Well, they were in a human environment, so they had to adapt to human body language. . . .
Passengers walking in the promenade ranged from sauntering couples, chatting and peering with vague attention at the bamboo growing along the sides and spine of the walkway, to serious exercisers who pumped their arms and kept track of time, kilometers, and calories burned. The latter proceeded with their mindless schedule, but those to whom the promenade was primarily a change of scene paused to view the Szgranians.
The Cochin had a roof of simulated thatch, supported by poles set in a low stone foundation so that those within the shaded interior had a broad view of the promenade. The half dozen customers, drinking iced and sweetened coffee, now watched Ran and the aliens.
The young man at the table nearest the entrance was Franz Streseman. Ran recognized him because the Grantholmer had been spending time with Ambassador Lin’s daughter. All three Staff Side officers were nervous about the situation, though thus far it seemed to be a young male and female getting together on a voyage; which was as common as breathing, if not quite as harmless.